


Glitter

by faerietalks



Series: Glitter [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Courtesan AU, DenNor, I suppose, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerietalks/pseuds/faerietalks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sindre only did it for the money, or so he told himself. It was for the money and the pleasure, nothing else.<br/>For Magnus, however, it was more about his feelings than anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Denmark is Magnus and Norway is Sindre.  
> I hope you'll enjoy~

His lips were a light pink, soft as rose petals. They tasted of cherries and expensive cognac. The one that Magnus has offered him, the one from the bottle they had emptied. 

His hands were cold, his fingers long and movements elegant. The skin was hardened, calloused and showed clear signs that he was from the working class. But his touch was as light as a feather, as a light breeze, and Magnus craves more and more.

His eyes were a deep blue, like the oceans that Magnus had sailed, like the starry skies that he’d seen, and deep enough for him to drown in. His gaze was cloudy, hazy, but Magnus supposed it was the alcohol’s fault. But the deep blue orbs sucked him in and and had him in a trance, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to break it.

His legs were long, slender, and strong. Pale and smooth, soft skin, Magnus loved the feeling of two strong legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him down towards the other man. 

Magnus loved the feeling of those hands stripping him of his clothes, those eyes looking him up and down, those lips wrapping around him and taking him in in that hot, wet mouth. It was more than enough to make him lose his mind, lose control of his voice and thoughts. 

He loved the feeling of entering him, the feeling of the shorter man holding him close and trying to force him deeper inside. He loved the sound of the other’s breath getting caught in his throat, of the shallow moans and sharp intakes of air. 

Magnus loved the way the moved together, the way their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, like puzzle pieces. How their fingers interlocked, how their heartbeats synced, how they always finished close together.

His voice was calm and cold, even if his breathing was ragged and heavy. It was too cold, the way he said “No, you don’t love me. You love what I do for you.”

His name was Sindre, the meaning behind the name “sparkling”. But no matter how many diamonds and riches, soft velvet, linen and satin, fine cognac or books that Magnus would give him, he wouldn’t admit to loving him. 

But someday, Magnus was sure, he’d hear those words slip past those lips, pink and soft like rose petals, pressing against his and making his heart skip a beat.


	2. Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norway is Sindre, Denmark is Magnus, and Iceland is Egill.

He did it for Egill. He did everything he could for his brother, he’d go to the end of the world and back, if it was what it’d take to keep his brother healthy and happy, safe from cold, hunger and harm.

He did it for the only family he had. He did it for his brother, only a child, too young to understand what was going on, or where mother and father had gone. He did it for the child with the small hands, who’d cuddle against him in the night and silently whisper that he loves him.

Sindre didn’t care much for the riches. The gold, the silk, the luxury that Magnus poured over him like rain, it wasn’t meant for him. It wasn’t what he wanted, not for himself. He only needed it for Egill.

Sindre didn’t care for the sweet words whispered to him, the improvised poems of how his eyes reminded Magnus of the starry skies and ocean waters. He didn’t care for the balls he’d been brought to, or the fancy clothes he’d been dressed in. Not even how the people in court looked at him with false smiles and loathing in their eyes. Sindre could take it all, all for his brother.

Sindre didn’t do it for the kisses or caresses that Magnus gave him. He didn’t do it for the cognac, the cherries, the way they spent their night together on the softest bed he could have ever imagined.

“You give me silver and gold, satin and silk…” Sindre whispered, as he rested his head on Magnus chest, breathing heavily after he’d done what he was there to do.

“I give you love as well,” Magnus hummed as he leaned down to press a kiss to Sindre’s head, nose poking him and lips soft, still wet from their kisses.

“No…” Sindre sighed as he sat himself up, wincing and groaning at his sore back and slowly making his way around the room, picking up his clothes and putting them on one by one.

“This isn’t love. You’re drunk, you’re only imagining it.”

“No, I’m not,” Magnus protested, sitting up and reaching out towards Sindre. Sindre sat down beside him and let himself be pulled into the taller man’s embrace, accepting the kisses he was given. Taking the small pouch, full of golden coins, he gave Magnus one last, chaste kiss before leaving.

He couldn’t deny that their kisses were sweet, or that his job was enjoyable when it was Magnus he shared a bed with. But he didn’t do it for himself, and he didn’t do it for Magnus. He didn’t love him, or so he told himself.

He only slept with Magnus for the money, for Egill’s sake. Or so he told himself.


	3. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norway is Sindre, Denmark is Magnus.

Magnus had doubted his ability to love for a long time. He knew how to make love; he’d done it countless of times before.

But loving someone, craving their affection and presence, content with sharing a bed just to hold them close, feeling their warmth and soft breathing, listening to the small mumbles of the words they spoke as they dreamed. It was a feeling that was foreign to him.

Then he’d met Sindre, and the feeling of love had hit him with such a force it could have made him stumble backwards and fall down, so hard that it was like a fist hitting his nose.

To Magnus, Sindre was light and grace, power and strength. The man reminded him of the oceans he’d sailed; calm and beautiful on the surface, but deeper and so much hidden underneath, he would never learn the sides of the man unless he was explicitly told.

But Sindre wouldn’t tell him, and Sindre wouldn’t hold him at night, mumble sweet words into his ears and kiss his lips like the taste was the sweetest in the world.

No money could buy him, no words could win him over, and no act of kindness or care would make him lose the cold tone in his voice, so sharp and painful when he told Magnus that no, it wasn’t love he was feeling.

“You wouldn’t love someone like me, you’re talking nonsense,” Sindre sighed, sliding his arms around Magnus’ shoulders, holding him closer as they rocked together in a steady rhythm, throwing his head back and groaning when he felt the taller man kiss and bite at his neck.

Magnus wasn’t sure how much longer his heart would hold his frustrated feelings of love inside. He wanted to show Sindre, prove to him that it was he, Magnus, that was talking, and not whatever drink he may be under the influence of.

Magnus knew that it wasn’t alcohol and cherries, lust or desperation that was talking for him. Even if it had been in the start it was not like that anymore.

The wanting to have the shorter man all to himself had been driven by lust, but the wanting for something else, something more sincere and pure had taken over.

There was nothing more that Magnus wanted as much as he wanted Sindre, but as he saw this “lovers” body lie out before him, pale skin against the soft sheets of his bed, his body more welcoming and warm than his words, he decided that it was good enough.

The feeling of holding Sindre in his arms for a night at a time was enough to mend his heart and ease away some of the pain the man who couldn’t be bought caused him.


	4. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norway is Sindre, Denmark is Magnus, and Iceland is Egill.

There were some things that Sindre would never admit to, some things that he’d keep hidden deep within himself, guarded and shielded away from the world around him.

Secrets he held about his life, his brother, and his feelings.

He could never truly tell Magnus about why he’d stooped so low, why his work was less than dignified for a man like himself. Although the people in court would refer to him as a street rat, he at least had a sense of dignity, honour and self-worth, more than some of the poor he lived close to.

Sindre would often lay awake at night and wonder if he had thrown that away when he’d started working down by the docks, where he’d met Magnus and this strange relationship had started.

Sindre could never tell Magnus about Egill, the sickly child that he was left to care for. How his mother had passed away, how his father had gone mad and followed her to whatever place the dead reside, leaving Sindre as the only person capable of taking care of his brother.

Often he’d doubt he was doing the right thing. He got enough money for food, rent and medicine, but as with all things in Sindre’s life, it too came with a price.

Egill had grown, learnt how to speak and write and he could almost cook, and he’d learnt it all while Sindre had been away, drowning his feelings in fine liquor and feeling soft linen and satin sheets beneath him.

Sindre owed the kind woman in the small apartment below so much, at least in his own mind he did, and he could never forget the look in her eyes when she admitted how much she longed to have a child of her own, despite knowing it was a dream that would never come true.

His soul was trapped in a house of cards, carefully constructed but trapping him inside. And although he knew it would happen, the wind that made it fall down and leave him in the rubble was too unpredicted, not even Sindre, who’d mastered the art of hiding behind a mask of apathy, could keep from breaking and letting his emotions take over.

His mind no longer controlled his body. It felt as if a cold and dark force controlled him, made his feet move and carry him to the small manor, up the winding staircase and into the dimly lit study room. It wasn’t Sindre himself that threw his arms around a startled Magnus, who asked why he’d appeared so suddenly, and why he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

The mysterious force let go of him, leaving him open and vulnerable in front of someone that Sindre knew could hurt him if the chance was presented. But Sindre’s mind was weakened, the mask fell away as tears spilled from his eyes, and he cried into the nobleman’s shoulder, his voice hoarse as he let his secrets spill out.

His feelings of shame and guilt, the worry over his brother, a poor child sick once more with an illness that he wasn’t sure if any doctor could cure.

He let himself be held, he let himself appreciate what Magnus did and had done for him, he let Magnus offer all the help he could give, financial and emotional. And in return, Sindre wore his heart on his sleeve, letting out all secrets but one.

Because no matter how kind a man Magnus was, he had a privilege Sindre did not have. Magnus could love whomever he wished to, such was a respected noble’s privilege. But for a poor street rat like Sindre, who sold himself to the highest bidder, loving Magnus could be the end of him.

So when Magnus whispered words of love as he stroked Sindre’s hair, Sindre bit his tongue and hoped his beating heart wouldn’t give him away.


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Denmark is Magnus, Norway is Sindre, and Iceland is Egill.

They’d had similar conversations before. They’d both been lying on Magnus’ bed, out of breath and exhausted, clouded minds and weakened bodies, and had the same conversation. Magnus, wearing his emotions on his sleeve, with a proud smile and hopeful voice whispering to his lover by his side, careful not to disturb the peaceful silence too much, but wanting his question to be answered.

“Do you love me?” he’d ask, trying to search the answer to his question in Sindre’s deep blue eyes. Eyes that conveyed nothing. Sindre kept his emotions locked away, but Magnus still hoped that someday he’d catch a glimpse of something in his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” was Sindre’s usual reply, followed by him turning around on the bed so Magnus faced his back. Sometimes he’d get up and leave after he’d answered, and Magnus would never plead for him to stay, not after a conversation like that.

This time was different. They didn’t lie in Magnus bed, with sheets of linen and silk. They laid in Sindre’s bed, old and hard, a sad grey lump on the floor of a small one-room apartment near the harbour. Sheets of something brown and woven, a hard and chafing material, and Magnus doubted they were warm at all.

The reason their breath caught in their throats, the reason their bodies felt heavy, was not because of the pleasures they usually enjoyed together. Sindre’s light hiccups and sobs shook his thin frame, and Magnus held him close, trying to make the smaller man feel safe and protected in his arms. He prayed that it would work, because Sindre needed that comfort right then.

Magnus had never seen anyone as scared and desperate as Sindre was that night. He’d entered his manor and surprised Magnus, sweeping him off his feet with a force he never knew the shorter man possessed. He had wished upon Gods and stars and waves on the ocean so many times he’d lost count, he’d wished so hard for Sindre to finally let go of the reins and showing his emotions. The thought that Sindre was heavily burdened with guilt and fear or losing his brother had never once crossed Magnus’ mind.

Magnus had once told Sindre that he’d do anything for him, and he was to stand by that promise. Paying a good doctor, paying rent and food and staying by Sindre’s side for as long as he was wanted around. He couldn’t feel any anger towards Sindre, who’d kept his secrets to protect his family, protect the child who lived in a world that was much too cruel to the sickly and poor.

“Will you come live with me?” Magnus spoke so softly, keeping his voice down enough so they could still hear Egill murmuring in his sleep in the bed beside Sindre’s.

“What about Egill?”

“He will come too.”

“But my job? As your…”

“It will continue, if you want it too,” Sindre looked up, Magnus’ words spinning around in his head and confusing him.

“I can’t force you to do something you don’t want.”

“Why not? Who says you can’t?” when Egill stirred in his sleep Sindre turned around, ready to get up and usher away the nobleman if his brother woke up.

“I won’t force you to do anything, because I love you,” Magnus gently took hold of Sindre’s hand as the room fell silent, with no sound except their breathing, and the slight wheezing from a sleeping Egill.

“Why won’t you love me?” Sindre considered Magnus words, and felt the ugly dark shadow of guilt creep over him again. Magnus knew, he’d somehow figured it out. Had Sindre let the mask slip too far, had he not concealed his heart enough? Magnus was too close to him, the feeling of the bigger hand so gently clutching his own, warming his cold fingers, Sindre felt defeated. No lie would work from that point on, Magnus would see right through him.

“You know why. You can love me, you are a noble and you are safe. I am not,” his voice was low, and he ended his sentence with a heavy sigh. The feeling is Magnus’ eyes looking at him felt too heavy, so Sindre hid his face in Magnus neck, the closeness comforting them both. Sindre felt so naked under Magnus’ gaze, more naked and vulnerable than he’d ever been around the man.

“Who cares what people might say? You haven’t cared about the whispering before now,” Magnus hand reached up to stroke Sindre’s hair, and he breathed in the scent of the golden locks as he let his eyes close for a moment.

“Let’s run away. I’m a sailor, I can get a ship. We’ll sail away, all three of us, and live together until the end of time,” Sindre couldn’t help but to laugh at the romantic side of Magnus coming trough.

To Sindre, Magnus idea was wishful thinking at best; he doubted it would ever come true. So when he said that if Egill did get better, and Magnus got hold of a ship, he would follow.

Five weeks later, Egill was running down to the docks with his favourite blanket in his arms, looking back and telling Sindre to hurry up so that the “nice, rich man” wouldn’t leave without them. Egill didn’t notice Magnus standing up on the deck, waving them over with a joyful look in his eyes.

If he wasn’t seeing it, Sindre would never have believed that Magnus had gotten a ship for them. It was like a scene from a fairy tale, where the rich and charming prince sweeps the princess off her feet and they ride away to their kingdom and live happily ever after. Only now it was Magnus, a rich sailor, who’d convinced his courtier to run away with him, to a place where no one would judge them.

Standing up on the deck at midnight, watching the starry sky reflect on the ocean, Sindre breathed in the chill air and hoped that Magnus was right, and things would be fine.

“Where are you taking us?” he asked in a low voice when Magnus walked up beside him, joining in the stargazing.

“To where I was born, I think you will like it.”

“I like the sea,” Sindre breathed out. “It’s calm and dark, beautiful to watch, but it is powerful.”

“Like you…” Sindre turned his head to see Magnus look away, covering his mouth and trying to brush it off. The man had always been blunt and tried to make Sindre aware of his affections, so blunt that Sindre had sometimes doubted him to be truthful. But under the moonlight, where the blush on Magnus cheeks couldn’t easily be spotted, Sindre believed him.

Sindre saw no point in holding his feelings back, he’d revealed his secrets to the man already, and he was certain that the last one was already evident to him.

“Why don’t you love me?” Magnus asked once more, after a long moment of silence had passed between the two. Sindre felt a lump in his throat and how his upper arms were shaking. A question he’d dreaded, but had to answer.

“I do,” as soon as he’d said it, he felt the lump grow bigger. He was still scared of admitting, even after hey both knew the affection was mutual.

Magnus laughed, pulled Sindre into his arms and murmured in his ear that his wishes had come true. A wish for someone to love and hold, a wish for a family. He’d wished upon countless of ocean waves and stars for it to become true. He’d blindly spent gold and diamonds for people to love him, but it had never worked.

“All that glitters isn’t gold,” he whispered into Sindre’s hair as he placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Had anything special in mind?” Sindre bit back a smile as he looked up to meet Magnus’ eyes, seeing the man with a small, warm and sincere smile on his lips and loving gaze.

“Your eyes,” to them, the kiss they shared on that deck was sweeter than any way of saying “I love you” could ever be.


End file.
